


Hello Darkness My Old Friend

by cherry619



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Gaslighting, M/M, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements, Self-Esteem Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-21
Updated: 2018-10-21
Packaged: 2019-08-05 14:27:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16369319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherry619/pseuds/cherry619
Summary: Dean loses gaps of time and his sanity as he struggles with his inner demons and comes to term with things that are outside of his control.





	Hello Darkness My Old Friend

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy...not too sure how this baby got written but once I started it just flowed. This has A LOT of dark and deep themes that I explored with this newfound Dean. So, please heed the warnings and tags on this one. I'm interested to hear what you think! It's really angsty as all hell but I promise it does end on a happier note. I hope you like it!
> 
> Written for a prompt at wrestlekink.

“What’s wrong _Dean_ , I thought you _wanted_ this? You agreed to it, didn’t you?”

Blood is pumping very loudly in his ears so any words trying to go through are getting washed out by the god-awful sound of his agonized wheeze coupled with the Scottish sounding laugh. Almost like fire licking at his skin, fringing and burning everything in it’s wake.

His skin has goosebumps but not from the temperature. The sweat and cum lay sticky and uncomfortable in the crease of his lower back and it takes about five minutes before he can even manage to roll off the bed without feeling like he might collapse.

He’s disorientated for a minute, the room spinning at a dizzying pace increasing the nausea from earlier that he managed to suppress. It takes him a minute to simply be able to lean on his knees and just _breathe._ It felt like throughout it he was simply holding his breath because if he allowed oxygen to enter his brain it would suddenly make everything so _real._ The oxygen deprivation left him with a weird high that helped him in blocking out what was actually happening.

The sick feeling of revulsion and failure began creeping into his senses again. Images of old and new bleeding into his brain forcing him to clench his eyes closed with a moan. He wanted to simply punch the images away. He was one second away from clocking himself good in the face until suddenly, the taller man is right in his face yanking on his chin and forcing his eyes to meet his; instantly stilling his agitated movements.

He swallows the gasp that wants to escape due to the bruising grip the man has on his face and stares with bated breath.

“ _Ambrose_...” Drew whispers with a tsk. The man’s muscular skin is gleaming from the sweat that coated his skin in rivers. “I thought you wanted this?”

Dean blinks in response the words swirling inside of his skull. _Did I want this?_

“Remember last night? Your boys kept fucking you over. You were so distraught and upset that you came to me and what more could I do than try and comfort you, huh? I’d be just as shitty as Roman and Seth are, wouldn’t I?” Drew rubbed his cheek gently, a smile on his face contrasting with the grimace on Dean’s own.

Did....did he really just do this? The thought is banging loudly in his head, creating a migraine from the tension. His heart is beating so loudly he thinks it might just break from his chest cavity. The noises and sensations are too much to bare. The idea of him running to McIntyre and...and _betraying_ his brothers again leaves him weak in the knees and his stomach rolling.

Drew just laughs in response; the cackle makes the hairs on his arm stand on end. Words like, dirty, wrong and not right keep replaying in his mind over and over again like a broken record.

“Don’t worry Dean. I’ll be here for you next time.” Drew assures, his voice confident and calm.

Finally, Drew lets up on his crushing grip of his face and pushes him down with such little force that it’s pathetic that Dean falls over anyway.

His hands catch him before he faces plants into the dirty carpet.

He’s shaking by the time he hears a door close and he has one second to mumble out an, “oh god...” before he’s puking up the meager contents in his stomach.

The acid burns the back of his throat forcing tears to leak out. Dean’s not sure whether it’s just his natural reaction or the events that just transpired.

When he’s finally done he’s shakily pushing himself back onto his ass, attempting not to fall over entirely and wipes at his face with a grimace.

His eyes eventually take in the décor of the room and notes that it’s a non-descript motel room. Dean’s not even sure what the date is or the time. Anxiety is creeping up his throat, as paranoia begins to kick in. He can’t even begin to process what happened.

Shakily, Dean attempts to stand up with the help of the bed behind him. It’s slow work, his muscles burn and ache with the familiarity of something he’s done millions of times in the past but this time...it makes him sick. Every pull of muscle sends a sharp stabbing pain in his chest, reminding him of something he’s not even aware he did...yet the evidence of what transpired is all over the room. It’s inside of his head, on his body, inside his aching muscles and bones. It’s something Dean can viscerally _feel_ with every painful beat of his heart inside of his chest.

He’s not sure exactly what he thought he might find if he was standing vertical, but he manages to slowly work his limbs into something akin to a walk toward what he assumes is the bathroom.

He drunkenly pushes open the door with a loud bang that makes him flinch before he’s rushing to get into the shower.

The curtain tears as he rips it open, his hands tremble on the knobs attempting to set it as hot as he could possibly stand it before he’s climbing into the tub slowly, his muscles screaming at him to slow down, his head reminding him that a band is playing their set of the night inside, and his heart and brain cruelly taunting him about how utterly disgusting he was, how Seth and Roman did _everything_ for him and yet he could only repay them with going out behind their backs and sleeping with the enemy.

He doesn’t know how long he stays in the shower for; but the cold water beating down on his skin, sending pinpricks of pain up his spine is the least he deserves.

 

* * *

 

 

“Dean? Dean!”

“What?” Dean flinches at Seth’s yell but quickly hides the expression behind a painful grimace. “Yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Seth is staring at him again as if he can easily see through his lies. It makes his heart flutter in a rapid staccato. However, Seth may have gotten good at reading him, but Dean has always been a good liar. It’s what he does best in the end.

“Jesus Christ _Rollins_ I said I was fine like twenty times already. I don’t need you asking every five minutes.”

Seth stops short on his follow up response. Obviously, Dean’s angry bite back catching him off guard.

Dean’s heart hurts when the jab of him saying ‘Rollins’ hits home, like he wanted, as Seth quickly averts his eyes a painful glaze coating them.

Seth just murmurs in response, sipping his hot coffee as if the conversation never occurred.

Roman eventually returns from the diner’s bathroom and notes the tension thick in the air.

Dean pretends like it doesn’t hurt inside to watch Roman give him a dirty look before settling next to Seth despite the fact that he originally sat next to Dean when they first arrived.

It fucking hurts. Hurts so much that Dean couldn’t possibly quantify the pain. He grits his teeth before he stands up with a loud scrap of his chair.

“I’m going to get some air.” Is all he says before he’s briskly walking outside, the bell dinging in his ear the only sound coming from behind, not once did he hear Seth or Roman’s voice calling after him.

His hands shake as he paces in place, his fingers tapping out a steady rhythm against his collarbone; soothing the anxiety and anger lacing in his veins. If he had a cigarette right now he’d gladly be sucking one down.

_Anything_ to try and get the feeling inside of his skin erased.

His phone is buzzing inside of his back pocket. He wants to desperately check it, even though he reminds himself he _wanted_ to piss them off. This was his plan. He’d rather they get disgusted with his unbearable shitty attitude and leave before they realize what he had done. It’s been a week since it happened but each minute that ticks by reminds Dean of how much time has went between the betrayal. How much time he’s spent agonizing over the fact that he allowed it to happen. He allowed another man’s hands on him....touching.... _feeling..._

“Whoa, whoa!”

A harsh voice breaks through Dean’s inner turmoil and he’s brought back to the present where he’s leaning on a cold, brick wall his head between his arms and a hand rubbing soothing circles up and down his back as a deep voice rumbles in his ear.

“Settle Dean. It’s okay, relax.” The voice turns out to be Roman.

Dean can do nothing but simply try and breathe in and out. The images are back in full force despite his best effort to suppress them. Except, with Roman and Seth so close he can’t dare lose it now. That would only make it more suspicious that something was really wrong. _Yeah, you’re the one that’s **wrong.** _

“No, no, no, no...” Dean mumbles in response to the voices taunting him again. His head shakes back and forth, pleading with some unknown force.

“Dean, babe, come on...I’m not mad. See?” Suddenly, he’s being hauled up from his bent over position to lean against a broad shoulder. Seth is in his line of vision and he’s smiling at him so sincerely, his hands so soft and gentle against his neck that it physically causes Dean to recoil.

He has one moment to take in the frown on Seth’s face as he flinches back before he’s harshly shoving Roman away and falling to his knees with a loud crack as the mornings earlier breakfast come up to meet him again.

_Hello darkness my old friend._

“Jesus Christ!” Roman barks.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Seth’s hands are back to touching him again, burning away the coldness that began to seep through.

“Hell, if I know, maybe he’s sick? He gets a little upset and delirious when he has a fever.”

A rough palm slides against his forehead, and whether it was the exertion from puking or his blood pressure being on the rise due to his troubled thoughts swirling inside of his brain, his forehead actually does feel warm.

“Hmmm feels kind of warm. Let’s take him home and get some medicine in him.”

Dean thanks the small miracles at work today and allows the two men to manhandle him since the energy has since left him.

 

* * *

 

 

Dean can’t breathe, black spots are dancing in his vision, his chest stuttering painfully attempting to bring in oxygen before the man’s hands are lifting off of his throat and allowing sweet air to enter. It fucking burns as he gulps it down, choking as he goes.

The same hands are back at his chest, rubbing as if soothing away the hurt that he created to begin with.

“Ah...you lasted so much longer that time. You really are one tough bastard, huh?”

Dean blinks slowly, attempting to orientate himself to what’s happening.

“What’s wrong Dean, did ye forget again?”

Dean’s suddenly brought back to the present, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he takes in his surroundings. He’s not in the room with Seth and Roman he remembered, no, he’s in the same non-descript motel room from his nightmares.

Drew McIntyre is leaning over him, his naked flesh gleaming once again with sweat. He has a sick smile on his face, obviously enjoying the turmoil that is going on inside Dean’s mind.

“No,” Dean moans, whipping his head back and forth and pushing the bigger man off with all of his newfound strength.

Drew doesn’t act surprised, but he pulls off of him with a laugh.

“Let me guess, you forgot that you came running to me again huh?”

“Shut the hell up.” Dean growls, grabbing his head to stop the room from spinning.

“Oh Dean,” Drew attempts to come closer, attempts to _touch_ him again but Dean lashes out.

“Stay the hell back!” Dean punches the man with all his might, seeing red in his vision.

Drew’s head whips back from the blow and bright red blossoms on his upper lip but he’s simply cracking his neck with a wince and licking at his split lip with a smile.

Dean’s backed against a corner, both literally and mentally. His mind is ripping apart into two, his stomach twisting and turning again as the night’s events begin to unfold in his head.

He doesn’t realize he’s moaning aloud until Drew shushes him with a finger to his lips. His other hands grab both of Dean’s wrists in a tight hold, but Drew didn’t have to worry...the fight has left Dean entirely.

“Why do we always come back to this huh?” Drew whispers, leaning into Dean’s personal space and forcing him further back against the wall.

“Please....” Dean licks his quivering lips before continuing. “Please just let me go.”

For a second nothing happens as Drew just continues to stare, a multitude of emotions flashing across his eyes but the main one being...pity.

“I never had you to begin with. You were always free to leave.” Drew lets go of his wrists and steps back with his arms wide, signifying that Dean could leave.

It takes Dean a few seconds before he’s pushing himself into action, scrounging around the room for his clothes and quickly putting them on before his hand is reaching the cold metal knob.

“Just remember Ambrose. You _choose_ this.”

Dean flinches at the cruel words before he’s rushing out into the night, not a clue as to where he is or where he’s supposed to go.

 

* * *

 

 

Roman has him pushed back against the lockers, his hot tongue mixing with his exchanging each other’s unique tastes and sending Dean into a frenzy.

“Fuck...” Dean stutters out a moan, head falling back and allowing Roman access to his neck to lick, bite and suck any inch of skin.

“What’s that?”

Like a bucket of ice water doused on a fire Seth’s voice crashes on top of Dean’s heat in an instant.

He forgot the third member of their threesome was also in the room, enjoying rutting against Roman’s back, molding into his skin. Giving Seth the perfect vantage point to stare at Dean, or more so Dean’s neck.

The vivid bruising from earlier a mottled purple that Dean did his best to try and hide with jackets, shirt collars and even scarves if he could.

Sometimes Dean would lose track of awareness very easily when he was turned on, especially if he was with Seth and Roman.

Roman stopped his ministrations to peer at Dean’s neck more closely. “What the hell is _that_?”

Dean’s hands went to his neck, covering what little he could. The events that transpired previously rushing right back.

Except his boys were persistent. Dean’s weird attitude and behavior as of late has them both on high alert and obviously seeing fingerprint bruises on his neck would send them into high alert.

“I didn’t put these there, what the hell is this from? Who did this Dean?” Roman was working himself into a rage, his eyes blazing to want to hurt someone who hurt what was his.

Dean couldn’t breathe, it was as if time stood still. He felt corned and caged. “Nothing.” Dean shrugged pushing away from Roman and straightening up his clothes. “It’s nothing.”

“To hell it is Dean!” Roman blazed reaching out to grab onto Dean’s arm to pull him back. Blood was pumping loudly in his ears again; Dean was on feral grounds. Instincts were taking over despite his mind screaming at him that Roman and Seth just wanted to help. So, before he knew it Dean was turning around and punching Roman in the face.

Seth’s yell of, “Roman stop!” came way to late to prevent what happened.

You could hear a pin drop with how quiet it had become.

“Roman, fuck,” Seth was beckoning to see the damage Dean’s fucking fist had created. “Lemme see.”

Roman shrugged Seth off instead turning his attention solely onto their other member standing hunched into himself. His hands firmly planted underneath armpits so they couldn’t see how badly he was shaking. There was a spot of blood dribbling out of Roman’s noise instantly matching the red haze that seemed to envelop him.

“Fucking hell Dean. What the fuck was that?” Seth questioned, turning his attention to Dean as well. Roman stayed worryingly silent. Studying him.

_This is what you wanted._ His mind taunted. Reminding him that he didn’t want Roman and Seth to get too close in fear they’ll learn the truth. It was way easier to allow them to think he was a shitty person with a bad attitude rather than the disgusting, vile person he had become. Someone who was willing to allow anyone to sleep with him on a whim yet go back smiling to his partners as if everything was fine.

Words like slut and whore bounced around his psyche. Dean couldn’t take it anymore.

“I have to go.” Dean mumbled, ignoring Seth shouting for him. Roman never said a word which caused Dean’s heart to break even more, shattering what was left.

His tumble through maddening depression took him straight back into the hands of the guy who created this mess.

It wasn’t hard to find Drew. It worried Dean how easy it was to locate the man. He couldn’t remember ever seeking the man out before but obviously his body knew where he was by muscle memory alone. The thought disgusted him, his shaking and trembling didn’t cease as the broad back of Drew came into view.

Drew seemed to sense him as well. He turned around with a smile. “Back again?”

“Fuck you.” Dean said, having no real heat or ammunition to even provide.

“I think you have it wrong Dean.” With lightening speed, Drew had Dean pushed against the cold, concrete wall his body weight holding him in place and his hand gripping his chin hard, his preferred method of holding him down.

His breath was warm against the shell of Dean’s ear sending goosebumps spiraling across his arms.

“I think you mean I’ll be fucking _you_.” Drew laughed the sound ringing in Dean’s ears.

“Now be a good boy and take this for me okay? We’ll leave the building soon enough and I’ll give you what you want.”

“What?” Dean questioned in confusion his mind attempting to make connections as to what was going on.

A little white pill shone in Drew’s hands. Dean didn’t remember ever taking any pills. He was very cautious when it came to drugs of any kind, not even wanting to take aspirin for headaches.

“What the fuck is that?” Dean questioned urgently, his heart beating loudly.

Drew frowned in response, his palm tightening on the white pill.

“Just take the damn pill.” The soft tones from earlier turned into rage and anger, Drew’s face was morphing from one of cool concern to fury in the span of a few seconds.

“No, fuck you.” Dean attempted to fight back out of the mans hold but he was much stronger than him. His heart was beating wildly in his body as his eyes never left the hand that was clenching on tightly to a little white pill.

“Be a good bitch and take it.” Drew tightly yelled, his hand grabbing onto Dean’s chin pushing in hard until Dean could do nothing but let his jaw fall open in fear of the man actually breaking it.

He kicked and fought against the man’s hold, moaning and grunting as Drew insistently tried to force the pill into his mouth.

“Psss...” He slurred the hold on his chin inciting pain and bruising, but he wasn’t past the point of outright begging.

“All you had to do was be a good boy and you couldn’t even do that Ambrose. I’m disappointed. No wonder why your boys didn’t want you.”

Tears leaked out of the sides of his eyes whether from the physical pain or mental, he wasn’t too sure.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!”

Both men stopped briefly to look over at the opening of the hallway and saw Roman and Seth standing there, Roman looked ready for murder, his eyes dark and his breathing heavy. It was Seth’s shout that distracted them both.

Dean took the opportunity of distraction and kicked Drew as hard as he could in the nuts.

The man groaned, the pill flying from his hand as both went to cradle his balls as he slid down.

Dean frantically pushed away from the wall not realizing that he was becoming hysterical.

“Hey, hey, hey, whoa....slow down. I got you now. Relax...it’s okay.”

The mantra of words eventually worked their way into his brain allowing him to try and take a deep breath.

“That’s it...nice and easy. It’s okay babe.” A hand softly ran through his shorn hair reminding Dean of safety.

The increased oxygen in his system was making the images around him sharper and clearer. Dean could finally see that the man speaking to him and touching him was Seth. Sounds of groans and grunts could be heard behind him but Dean’s blue eyes focused in on Seth’s watery brown ones.

“Wh’re cy’ing?” Dean slurred, his speech still fucked up from the bruising grip Drew had on his face.

“I’m worried about you; can’t I be worried?” Seth said with a watery laugh.

“No,” Dean responded morosely.

He didn’t get to hear Seth’s response to that since his vision began to get fuzzy again. The voices sounding farther and farther away.

He was able to make out Roman saying, “What are we going to do?” before he lost his tie with consciousness. 

 

* * *

 

 

“Dean can you hear us?”

The groan that gets ripped out of his dry throat is horrendously loud in his ears. It makes him scrunch his face up in annoyance which garners a chuckle from the guys hovering over him.

“Isn’t that cute how when he’s annoyed his face looks like he tasted a lemon?”

“Isn ote” Dean mumbled out incoherently, his words slurring as he attempted to awaken all his bodily functions at a snail’s pace.

“And it’s _really_ cute when his words smash together when he’s attempting to speak after he wakes up from sleeping.”

“It sure is, hey sleepy head have a nice nap?”

Dean blinks open crusty eyes and winces when the light pierces through them straight to the headache bubbling up at the back of his skull. Almost immediately the lights dim which makes Dean settle. His mind is a hazy blur, so he can’t exactly remember why he should be laying in a hospital bed with Seth and Roman hovering over him, both having smiles of relief and concern across their face.

“I’m gonna take that slow blink as a yes.” Roman chuckled, sitting down on the side of his bed and laying a heavy palm across his brow.

The hand was warm, and it did wonders for the headache pounding in his head. Dean sighed, closing his eyes, “I feel like shit.” He finally mumbled out, his throat scratchy and raw.

“Yeah....” Seth said softly, but his voice held a tinge of... _something_ to it. Dean’s not too sure how to read what it is. He opens his eyes again and both Roman and Seth look... _uncomfortable_ like they are about to crawl out of their skin uncomfortable.

The tension in the air hangs heavy, almost as if Dean could taste it. He gets a sick feeling in his stomach starring between the two. His fight or flight instinct is telling him to run like hell.

They must sense his uneasiness and panic because Roman immediately begins shushing him gently. “Hey now,” Roman whispered, leaning down so that his forehead touched his own. Dean closed his eyes for a moment, taking in the comfort. “ _Relax.”_

“You don’t have anything to be worried about.” Seth adds, sitting down on his other side, his palm going to his thigh under the blanket. Seth’s hand was ice cold, likely from the temperature in the room and it chilled away some of the blazing anxiety that was beginning to bubble in his gut. He couldn’t put his finger on exactly _why_ he felt that way, but it didn’t immediately ease it just simmered under the surface.

Roman, noticing that despite their soft words and comfort, Dean wasn’t calming down as much as they wanted too began speaking again.

“What do you remember?”

That was a good question. What did he remember? The dryness of his mouth and aching in his jaw makes him assume he didn’t do too hot in the ring.

“Did I get hurt?” Dean asks softly, eyes sliding between both Seth and Roman’s matching grimaces.

He could feel Seth’s hand tighten against his skin.

“Something like that.” Roman gets out, a hard edge to his tone. Dean’s eyes sweep between Seth and Roman, the energy in the room buzzing.

“I...I don’t understand then.”

“Dean,” Seth says softly, forcing Dean’s eyes to stare into his woeful brown ones. “What day do you think it is?”

Dean pauses for a second, uneasiness filling his gut. Did he go on a bender and get drunk? Did he try driving drunk? These are questions bouncing around in his brain and none of them have answers he likes to consider. Finally, he concludes he honestly doesn’t have a clue what day it is. “Uh...is it Thursday?”

“What’s the last thing you remember doing?” Roman asks this time, both of their eyes as wide as saucers as they stare at him for answers.

“Uh....” Dean ponders long and hard about the last thing he remembers doing. He semi remembers being pissed at both guys, possibly shoving Seth and walking out on them.

Images crawl back to him slowly as feelings rush his system. Feelings of self-loathing, guilt, shame and disgust slither up his skin like snakes beginning to suffocate him until he’s breathing erratic.

“Dean!” Roman barks harshly instantly breaking him out of his self-induced panic.

“You need to relax Dean. The Doctor said your blood pressure was through the roof and they won’t let you out until it starts to look normal again.”

“What....” Dean swallows the bile that threatens to escape. His eyes swinging between Roman and Seth’s as answers bubble under the surface. “What happened to me?”

He watches as both Roman and Seth look between each other, obviously looking to see who would be the one to break the news.

“Damn it just tell me!” Dean grounds out, not appreciating them delaying the inevitable.

“Dean,” Seth eventually starts leaning in close to him, his palm coming up to touch Dean’s cheek. Roman gets off the bed, pacing, his agitation clear as day.

“What?”

“Dean....I...I don’t know how to even tell you this but you’ve been raped...I’m so sorry.”

He’s being smushed against Seth’s chest before he can even properly process the words. Seth’s shaking up and down, and Dean’s pretty sure he’s crying.

Roman is muttering to himself angrily, looking like a bull caged in a china shop.

Dean doesn’t know what to feel.

 

* * *

 

 

It’s about three weeks since his hospital visit, and things haven’t been any easier to handle or deal with.

The reality of what had transpired came crashing down on him soon after Seth told him. The images of he and Drew McIntyre over the course of multiple weeks and what exactly he did immediately came rushing back.

The feelings of inadequacy and wrongness hit him like a freight train forcing him to angrily push Seth away but Seth held on tighter. His words spiraling out of his mouth in a futile attempt to somehow comfort them _both._

Yet, he wasn’t getting the bigger picture. Seth wasn’t understanding the magnitude of what that meant. How can it be rape if Dean agreed to do it?

Dean asked them both this between Seth’s fits of hysteria and Roman’s anger. That only seemed to spur on either man more. A story of gaslighting, coercion and drugging became clearer as they both told the events of the last week.

Stories of Dean disappearing after shows despite them doing their best to reach him or look for him. Him reappearing again without any knowledge as to where he was or what happened. His paranoia and anxiety taking over his actions both in ring and outside of the ring. Being afraid to be without them, not being able to sleep at night, bouts of rage leaving him hurting himself.

It all spiraled down hill until last week where they decided to try and follow Dean after he split. Both of them walking into the scene of McIntyre forcing himself on Dean, spitting mad trying to shove _something_ down his throat.

Dean apparently passed out not long after the encounter.

Despite the fact that this all apparently was happening within the span of a month. Dean just wouldn’t accept the fact that it wasn’t his fault to begin with.

It had to have been something he did or said to convince the man to target him. Maybe he got too into his face? Maybe he looked at him wrong? Sent him mixed signals? It wouldn’t be the first time a guy has gotten the wrong idea about him.

Dean just would not accept that he had no wrongdoing in the matter despite Seth and Roman insisting he was taken advantage of.

Dean’s not sure exactly what happened with Drew. The whole ‘Dogs of War’ thing became quiet after that. He never saw Dolph, Braun or Drew in the hallways for a show. Seth and Roman were keen to keep him away from anything that might set him off.

The bed was cool underneath his back. His mind was pleasantly blank for the time being.

“Hey,” Roman said softly, asking with his eyes if it was okay to lay down beside him.

“Hey yourself.” Dean said in invitation.

Roman laid down beside him slowly. Dean hated the way both men walked on eggshells with him as if he might break. No amount of convincing them both he was fine was working to get them to stop. If anything, they both doubled down on the aggressively love Dean campaign they’ve been running since he returned.

He shouldn’t really be annoyed with it. He should be kissing ass thankful that the two didn’t hate him after what he had done. Dean swallowed shakily as images began assaulting his vision.

“Hey...don’t do that now.” Roman said softly with a sigh leaning up on his elbow and staring down at him. His smile was warm if a little pained.

Dean averted his eyes forcing Roman’s smile to diminish. “Why not?” Dean asked moodily, testing the waters.

“Don’t go back into that headspace it’s not worth it.” Roman admonished lightly, his fingers now grazing at Dean’s temple softly.

Dean watched from across the room as Seth exited the bathroom, steam billowing behind him. His wet body was enticing as his muscles shifted and moved as he toweled himself off.

Dean was beginning to get hard despite himself. He bit the inside of his cheek hard to break himself out of the state. He didn’t deserve it.

“Stop that.” Seth said making Dean flinch.

“Stop what?” Dean asked rolling away from Roman’s touch and putting himself on the farthest edge of the bed.

“I know you’re hurting yourself, so you won’t feel anything and it fucking kills me to see you do that.”

“So, what?” Dean mumbled closing his eyes, so he wouldn’t have to stare at Roman or Seth’s hurt expressions, or their feelings of disappointment about him.

“So...” Roman continued, rolling closer to his back the heat transferring from their skin making him shiver. “We love you.” Roman whispered, “We don’t want to see you hurt yourself over something that wasn’t your fault.”

“Shut up.” Dean’s hands went to his ears, his eyes clenched shut, refusing to see or hear what they were attempting to do.

“Sorry...” Roman said louder, taking his hands gently and prying them from his ears, “can’t do that.”

With ease, Roman managed to roll him onto his back, pinning his arms up over his head.

Dean’s eyes remained clenched close, his teeth ground together. “Stop.” He said pitifully, his breath hitching with emotion.

“Why?” Seth asked softly, occupying the space that Dean just rolled away from.

“I-I can’t.”

“You can’t what? Accept our love?” Seth whispered softly, bending down and kissing his bare stomach.

Dean’s stomach muscles clenched at the touch. An electricity sparked through his body from his toes to the top of his head.

“Maybe we need to teach him how to, again?” Roman suggested bending down and kissing Dean’s bearded cheek gently.

Dean jerked away but Roman held fast to his arms.

“Yeah...” Seth breathed out, his hand going straight to Dean’s belt buckle and beginning to undue it. Dean trembled in their grasp, the fight in him leaving the longer their hands remained on his skin.

“Remember when we used to do this in the closet at FCW?” Seth recounted to himself with a smile.

“Yeah,” Roman answered his hands leaving Dean’s wrists and trailing down his chest. “I remember how ticklish you were and how much noise you’d make.”

“Shut up,” Seth unwound Dean’s belt from the belt loops and threw it off the bed with a quiet plop.

Dean breathed in deeply, his eyes firmly remaining closed. He didn’t attempt to speak or even make a noise as Seth slowly unzipped his zipper and began to shimmy his pants off.

“Our boy has such big muscular thighs now...”

“I know. When he wears those tight ass jeans I about loose it in my gear.”

“Stealing my thunder, a bit with his skinny jeans. Here I thought _I_ had the best ass out of all of us.”

God. The banter was so much like old times it physically hurt Dean to hear it. He wasn’t aware that he was keening in his throat, or that his eyes even fluttered open. He was just aware of the ever-present ache that wouldn’t leave him. His heart beat painfully in his chest, his arousal throbbed to the tune of the staccato rhythm banging away behind his ribs.

“Shhh....” Roman comforted his face appearing before his own. “It’ll be alright babe, we got you.”

Roman looked back and with a slight nod of his head Seth was going down on him, swallowing him full in one fluid movement.

Dean moaned; his arms coming down to try and clench onto something. Roman grabbed both of his hands and squeezed the sweaty palms together tightly while he peppered kisses along his brow.

“That’s it...” Roman murmured, “just relax and let it happen.”

Dean breathed deeply, his eyes staring at the ceiling as Seth began a steady rhythm between his mouth and his hands somehow matching in tune to Roman’s whispered words and light kisses.

The moaning grew louder to the point that was all Dean could hear. He wasn’t sure if it was just him moaning or all three in unison it felt so loud in his ears.

Once Seth’s hand began lightly fondling his balls in time to when he went down Dean was a muttering, incoherent mess of snot and tears. He didn’t even realize he started crying.

“Just let it out baby, that’s it.” Roman comforted. “Let us make you feel better.”

Seth went down quickly one more time and he was coming with a clenched off shout, damn near biting his tongue clean off. His vision whited out for a moment and it took a few seconds for him to come down from his earlier high and orientate himself.

This time, instead of seeing the face of a crazed maniac, delighted in his revulsion and shame, he saw the loving faces of his two brothers, his _family_ looking at him with pure love.

“Feel better?” Seth asked in a raspy tone, wiping off his mouth and climbing to lay down next to him, both he and Roman flanking him on either side.

Dean breathed for a few moments taking in the sensations of their smells, their touch, and just their presence. “No,” He said honestly but the no wasn’t a harsh sentence it was one of healing and understanding and if Seth and Roman’s happy murmurs of praise in his ear was any inclination, they both understood it too.


End file.
